Exhibits
by wowsugarpuss
Summary: Dark, AU, pre-series fic. Logan and Veronica are sneaking around a lot longer than anybody knows. Or, if Veronica Mars was channeling Lux Lisbon.


Exhibits #1 through #97

* * *

On the morning Logan Echolls died--trussed up in a low ditch, blood running from his ears and mouth--a small car carried Veronica Mars out of town toward the vast potential of a new home. It had been several weeks since Lilly Kane died, fewer still since long-time sheriff Keith Mars (father to Veronica) had accused a fellow father (Lilly's own, Jake Kane) of killing the girl. Lianne Mars--housewife, adulterer, lush--had taken her fifteen-year-old daughter aside and told her, with a slight edge of desperation to her voice, that they were going to start a new life. Neptune had long since lost its appeal for the family of three whose only ties to the town were stripped out from under them by the quiet sensationalism of murder.

* * *

"Maybe we shouldn't," Veronica hesitated, characteristically. Her blonde hair curtained across her face in a sweeping veil, attempting to hide her expression of doubt from the boy.

Logan's lips pursed when he frowned. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but Veronica knew that it meant trouble. Poor, soft Veronica was never good at saying no.

"Maybe we should." Logan used her words against her, a slight spin on the situation that was designed (through hours practice of idle manipulation) to confuse and ultimately win-over. Girls liked Logan. They liked his cocky smirk and loud voice that were signs of the unpolished sophistication afforded to him by movie star parents. In ways which Veronica wasn't, Logan was mature. He had quickly learned how to use this to his advantage.

"I don't--what about Lilly?" she stammered in her usual coquettish tone. Veronica was innocent and it made other boys ignore her. Logan was only more intrigued. He had always been the one--who at thirteen had stumbled into a make-up trailer with the director's sixteen-year-old daughter and subsequently lost his virginity--to explore unknown territory. It was his bravery that made him as awe-inspiring to the boys in Neptune as he was desirable to the girls.

"Lilly will never know," he insisted, his words hot and damp on her face. He took the opportunity of her distraction caused by his proximity and slipped one hand down her waist, closer to his goal. "Who's going to tell her?"

"I should. She's my best friend." Veronica stumbled, the strap of her patent leather Mary Jane catching slightly on his jeans as Logan pressed one warm thigh between her knocked-knees. Nobody, he knew, from talking to her boyfriend, had ever had the privilege of seeing (or touching) Veronica's breasts. Getting to second base with Veronica Mars was as of yet an unaccomplished task, aided by the high-power position and concealed weapon permit of her overprotective father. Logan moved closer, his leg pressing where she was warm and wet and the faint odor of sex clung to her. "Logan," she gasped in response.

Before she could protest he kissed her with all the passion a fifteen-year-old can muster, his slippery tongue pushing into her mouth. Veronica's lips were cracked, she was often seen in moments of anxiety picking at the dead skin, and the texture as his saliva dampened the white flakes hanging from her lips was not entirely pleasant--but the warm heat radiating from inside of her and the sharp hips pressing into his body made up for this deviation from Logan's fantasy of Veronica.

Veronica dated Duncan Kane and she had never let him kiss her with his tongue. Logan felt good to her in a way that Veronica could not--and most probably did not want to--understand. She stopped him before he could unbutton her shirt all the way. When she got home Veronica showered twice, scrubbing between her legs--with her loofa, because she was still too innocent to allow herself thoughts of masturbation--until the molten ache was gone.

* * *

A thin line of greenish liquid ran from her nose as Veronica sniffed. She swiped it away with her cuff pulled over the back of one hand. "Why would anyone want to kill her?"

It was something she had noticed for a while now, but when Logan was nervous his foot shuffled into the ground. Toe grinding against the carpet or tarmac with a determined awkwardness. His right foot did this now as he looked down at her. "I don't know."

The sleeves of his shirt were too long for him, giving Logan the appearance of somebody much younger. Veronica was comforted by this fact while her childish sobs shook the back of her throat as they crawled out from her gut. His clammy hand reached out for her and Veronica made sure to release the snot-soaked cuff from around her fingers before she accepted the gesture. Veronica's lips were softer now. She had taken to smearing her chapped lips with balm to try and dissuade the cracks from appearing. The greasy texture slipped against Logan's dry mouth as he pulled her closer, his fingers digging into the soft cotton of the cardigan she always wore. She tasted like strawberry wax.

Duncan had disappeared into his own depression at the onset of Lilly's death; leaving Veronica relatively free to what she was indulging her hormones in with Logan. It was not love, she had been certain of this--determined of this one point in the same way as Logan. He could not stand to watch his feelings for her develop into anything more than primal lust evoked by the beginnings of her sexual awakening. The tightening in his chest and sparkling across his vision were merely signs of the blood rushing from his head, nothing more.

Her breath hitched in the soft whine of a frustrated colt as he pulled back and Veronica--more the aggressor with each encounter, taken aback by her own burgeoning womanhood--wrapped her fingers tightly in the front of Logan's shirt. She refused to let him go, sending a jolt of desire through his bloodstream, the arousal quickly fuelled by his adolescence. The small buttons that lined his front left fading, red indents in her sweaty palms that she would only become aware of much later, lying under dirty sheets, investigating the subtle difference between their skin, while Logan was fast asleep. Her virginity now caved in painfully by his body.

* * *

Soft, tan suede hung from his lanky frame, the corners of his jacket tugged into each other tightly as Logan's arms locked around his body. A placid black was set deep around his eyes where lines threatened to appear. Veronica was fearfully fascinated by the tense column of sinew he had become. She opened her mouth, let it hang impotently for a moment before shutting it again with a dull clack of teeth. Logan still remained firmly planted in the doorway of her apartment, seemingly unstruck by the modesty of her mismatching furniture and impoverished commodities. His jaw ticked sharply, almost in time with the tick-tack of the plastic hands on her kitchen clock.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as forcefully as her shyness would allow. Veronica was unused to visiting boys at 2 a.m.

"Did you see her?"

Veronica stilled. A perfect reaction shot caught in complete juxtaposition to the mundane surroundings of her home. She blinked. A small flicker of skin and lash clouding her vision and making Logan appear to shake in front of her. "She was already--"

He swallowed. A convulsive, mechanical motion accompanied by a fleshy click that resonated of clockwork to Veronica's ears. Logan was positive--although later he would realize that this was not the case--that he was dying. His whole body tightening in anticipation of a colossal deflation. All his insides decaying into sour-smelling liquid which would fail to hold his skin together. The plump flesh of Veronica's palm pressed on his arm. Logan wondered if she could tell that he was sweating from the oversized coat and the cheap air conditioning. He wanted more than anything to take off the second skin and try to relieve the pressing pressure mysteriously constricting his chest but he was scared it might be all that was left holding him together.

"She was already--was already--" Veronica's voice disintegrated into a muted clog, stuck partway in her mouth.

* * *

Veronica's cardigans were now rough-cotton hoodies. The small, mock mother-of-pearl buttons had been replaced by a steel zipper, the delicate wool with thick raw cloth, a hood attached to the neck-piece. Veronica's eyes hardened as she attempted to bring the boyish facade to her face. With fractures cut from her hair the new appearance she had concocted was brought to completion. It was an adequate disguise but she could not help entertaining the pull of disappointment when Logan's eyes flickered over her dismissively. He was wholly uninterested in hiding his grief from anybody and quite happy to show his disinterest in her pursuit.

"You cut your hair."

"Yeah." She fingered the dead strands nervously.

"Looked better long."

"I wanted something different."

"Something less Lilly?"

"Is that a problem?"

He shrugged instead of answering her and Veronica could feel her coldstone attitude sinking all the way in from her clothes. It sharpened up her tongue like a steak-knife, into something bloody and brutal that could inflict just as much damage as the heavy weight that caved in Lilly's skull. Logan did not expect a mouth to match her costume, that much was clear.

* * *

On the rare Sunday morning that Lilly Kane was up and out of bed, she could usually be found by her pool. Oversized sunglasses hid her eyes from the morning light as a strategically planned swimsuit would make any visitors stop to gawk at her rapidly developing chest. Modesty was not Lilly's strong suit. Unlike Veronica who was most likely to be perched beside her best friend, one-piece suit firmly in place, her legs crossed as she lounged back in one of the poolside recliners which so often featured in many of Lilly's X-rated, exaggerated tales.

A sweet bead of sweat pooled down Veronica's forehead, running the length of her nose. Lilly grimaced, grabbing up a tube of sunscreen. "Loooooooogan." She hefted herself up, a bounce of friction running through the plump flesh of her thighs and stomach. "Logan, can you do my back? I can't reach," she called to the boy tottering on the opposite edge.

Logan smoothed out his body, hands swanning skywards as he anticipated his dive. Without looking twice at Lilly he took a deep breath, flooding his lungs before he cut through air and water with minimal resistance. Bobbing to the surface he finally turned his attention to Lilly--who now sat pouting at the lack of instant attention--and brushed the loose hair from his eyes with one careless palm. "Can't Veronica get that?"

"Veronica's on a schedule, if she doesn't spend exactly an hour on each side she'll get all uneven and gross."

Veronica peeked over at Lilly with a disgruntled expression.

"Come on, Logan. Pleeeeease?"

Rolling his eyes, Logan climbed leisurely out of the pool. He made sure to drip over the edge of Lilly's toes, not bothering to dry off as he fell down behind her on the recliner. Lilly shrieked, swatting ineffectually so as not to break her nails. She quieted as Logan's palms--grease-slicked with sun cream--slid easily across her shoulders. Veronica remained in her seat--warm and dry--as a slow flush colored her face. She reached for her own tube of sun block, hoping to cover the red wash trickling through her capillaries as Logan's fingertips eagerly explored willing flesh.

* * *

"She's going to find out."

"How? You gonna tell her?"

"No. Of course not--"

"Then she won't find out."

"Why don't you just break up with her, Logan?"

He stopped. "Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe because we're doing _this_." Her face flushed warm red across her cheeks. Veronica's eye line dropped to the hand palming her right breast, unable in her embarrassment to clarify their actions any further.

Logan shrugged with his eyes. It wasn't something Veronica had ever seen anybody else accomplish, but one quick flash of his gaze seemed to portray Logan's lack of interest in the subject completely. He squeezed the breast pushed up against his fingers once before he spoke. "And being with Lilly doesn't _stop_ us doing this," he justified.

"God." Veronica pulled back, trying to gather enough sheet from under her to at least cover her chest. Once she had finally given up on the complex logistics of getting Logan to move enough for her to yank the sheet out from under him also, she simply wrapped her arms around her chest. "You're such an ass," she muttered.

Logan was less than impressed with the sudden interruption. The afternoon had seemed to be clearly marked as a prelude to sex. He frowned in annoyance as Veronica deliberately shifted away from him on the bed, glowering across the space. "What? What, Veronica? If you've got something to say could you just get on with it?"

"I--" She sighed heavily, as if she was trying to empty all of his breath out of her lungs. "I'm going home."

Logan looked up, feigned nonchalance slipping from him. "Wait. No." He swallowed. "What is it?"

Veronica kept one arm cupped around her breasts as she searched for the pink cotton shirt that was somewhere amongst the bedding. "I don't know... I just-- You can't have two girlfriends."

"You're not my girlfriend," he observed. Logan had never really understood the complications that girls could bring into situations. And that is what he and Veronica had: a situation, not a relationship. That's what she had Duncan for. She didn't need to be lecturing anyone about monogamy. "You have a boyfriend," he finished accusingly.

"Right." She looked hurt. The downward squint of her lashes cast shadows into the small hollows beneath her eyes. Veronica looked sadder than she used to. "I'm going home."

"Veronica... wait."

She didn't reply, keeping her head down as she tugged her misplaced shirt back on. Blonde hair--sticky from the sweat of his palms--fell forward in a dirty waterfall across her face. Veronica refused to look at Logan, pulling her arm violently from his grip. It was the only loud thing about her as she hastily replaced her shoes and took off toward her car. Logan flopped backwards on the mattress, letting himself bounce with it until he settled on the warm, slightly moist sheets that smelled of Veronica, sweat and a little like sex.

* * *

"We should run away," she suggested breathily.

Logan was distracted. One of his hands stilled in her dusty hair, the color of sawdust and champagne. His lips hovered over the corner of her mouth as he grunted, "Huh?"

"Where there's nobody else," she clarified. Her lips pressed up into his, a slip of tongue tasting along his bottom lip. She was still only just adventurous enough to offer tentative touches. Veronica Mars was reactionary. She let Logan lead like Lilly never had, but neither could be sure that what they were doing was exactly what he wanted. Logan didn't think it mattered much, he wasn't what she wanted either. He was just a little danger in an otherwise unrelentingly white-washed, pastel existence. For Logan it was the opposite. Veronica was the last stretch of clean white snow he could see and he was slowly stomping all over her with muddy boots.

It had been a game to start with. Something to dirty, something nobody else could do. Nobody else could fuck Veronica Mars. Veronica was untouchable. Clean. Now he was filthying her and he wished--just a little when she was dosing, sweet and docile in the crook of his elbow--that she would fix him up. She could wash off all the lipstick marks left on his collars and the bloodstains around his cuffs and he would be a little more normal.

"I want you," he told her. He could feel the tremble that ran straight from her knees all up her spine. He could feel the hitch in her breath.

* * *

Then his girlfriend died and there was no fixing that. Veronica was a dull grey slush, ice-cold and sliding through his fingers. She was dirty and unimpressionable. Logan didn't think that he would be able to manipulate her anymore.

Veronica's long hair hung lank, weighed down from lack of washing. She was wearing pajama pants and a tank top all worn around the edges, faint white marks staining the underarms. Her eyes were smudged with sleeplessness. Her lips were cracked again and small red freckles dusted the swollen skin around her eyes--saturated with mascara-black tears.

She was standing barefoot next to her car outside his driveway and Logan didn't know why he was walking down the drive toward her. His own pajama pants trailed in the dew that appeared almost as soon as night fell, the damp cloth irritating his ankles. He stopped by the gate, watching her from the other side for a moment as she stared--almost blankly--back at him. Moving through, he sat on the hood of her car, regarding her carefully as she leaned back against the window. "What do you want, Veronica?"

She took a small step to the left, moving in between his dangling legs. One cold hand pressed down on his thigh as she stretched up her mouth to his. She tasted bitter. Like salt and gum chewed too long. Logan didn't hesitate to place a large hand against her neck--his fingers pressing up into her hair, rubbing the tenseness he found there. He tried to coax Veronica into her soft, pliable self but she stayed rigid against him. Her sharp edges (hips, ribs, fingertips) pushed hard in all the right ways.

Sometimes, when Veronica was about to cry, her eyes would begin to flicker and the slow flush that so often claimed her would crawl up her neck and face. However, she was acting wholly different from how Veronica would usually act and Logan had a feeling--something he would later realize was somewhat of an understatement--that he had no idea what Veronica was going to do next.

When her fingers gripped around the inside edge of his pants, Logan took this as an invitation and slipped his own hand inside hers. Veronica froze as his fingers slipped up inside her. Her thighs were now splayed obscenely across his lap, the cold metal of her car sure to leave tell-tale bruises on her knees. A short, startled gasp shot from her mouth.

Logan pressed his mouth against hers, not really kissing her. He was so close he was breathing the air right out of her mouth, eating her up on the exhales. "Shhh," he blew across her lips. "I just wanna make you feel good."

Veronica's reply was lost. "I shouldn't--" Her mouth fell open against Logan's as his fingers curled up inside her to agitate. She pressed her face into his shoulder tightly. Veronica tried to pretend that she wasn't on top of a boy, on the hood of her car, in a quiet street sobbing out a moan against his neck.

She tried to pretend that her best friend hadn't died before she was given the chance to stop betraying her.

* * *

"Why did Duncan break up with me?" she demanded. Logan didn't lift his gaze to her, instead keeping it firmly placed on the small piece of table by his tapping fingertips. "Did you tell him to?"

He stood, towering over Veronica. She refused to back down, her face a clear mask of defiance. If Logan had taken the time to think it through he would have realized that he had helped to create this version of Veronica just as much as Lilly's murderer had. He had often mused--after a particularly nasty late-night welcome home from his father, antiseptic soaked gaze wrapped around his ribs--that he would probably have a hand in his own demise. It was entirely possible that while Lilly's murderer was the first horseman (starting the end of his world), Veronica would be the second.

He glared down at her. "Why would I?"

"Then why?" A gleam polished up her eyes. It made Veronica look so much more vulnerable than she had in a long time, Logan could not help but enjoy that momentary seize of power.

"Isn't that something you should be asking Duncan?"

"Stop being an ass. I know you know."

"Surprisingly, Veronica. For once I actually _don't_, but thanks for assuming I'm lying."

"It doesn't make any sense. Why would he just... just..." she floundered for the right words to express Duncan's recent treatment of her. Although they had not officially broken up he had refused to speak to her for the better part of three days.

"You seem awfully upset for someone who's been _cheating_ on him."

"Is that it? Did you tell him?"

"Did you tell Lilly?"

"Of course not. Why would I?"

Logan arched a brow in response. "Then why would I?"

"I don't know," she pulled out the words in a frustrated manner.

"Maybe you should figure some stuff out before you start throwing out accusations. You're no saint." His words were tossed away dismissively. Veronica cut closer to the bone than Logan was altogether ready for most days.

"Fuck you, Logan."

"Oh yeah, I'm the bad guy here. I didn't fucking break up with you, Veronica!"

"Well, maybe I just did."

"We're not together anyway so you can't."

"Right. Sure."

"Don't _be_ like this."

"I'm not the one being like anything!" She resembled a spindly tree stalk, staring back at him, something fragile determinedly rooted into the ground.

"What the hell, Veronica? What _is_ it?" Logan's pitch rose with exasperation. His cheeks colored as the release of shouting fuelled his anger.

Veronica shouted back, taking Logan's bait and pulling him under by his own line. "Could you even pretend to care about me at all?"

He stopped. His words spluttered to a halt on his lips. The solid heat that had existed between them was effectively smashed like an old plate, fracturing into slivers of ceramic that Logan was sure would burrow in under his skin as soon as he attempted to pick them up. Veronica was staring right at him.

* * *

"Don't go."

A sticky smear of lip gloss wiped off on the back of Veronica's sleeve. She licked her lips self-consciously, extracting her fingers from between the creases of Logan's shirt. "I have to. My parents will start to wonder where I am."

"So tell them you're at Lilly's," he suggested.

Veronica smiled. A small crease formed in the corner of her mouth. It matched the lopsided pout that Logan was currently sporting. "Nice try. My dad'll check. You know what he's like." She sighed. "And Lilly... Lilly will have a field-day trying to find out where I really was when I ask her to cover for me."

"You need more friends."

"You're my friend." She nudged him gently with her shoulder.

Logan ignored her, a quiet breath pulling out from his lips as he fell back until he was flat out on the sofa. "I'll miss you," he complained.

Veronica curled around him, her slight frame fitting awkwardly against Logan's side while one of her legs looped over his to stop her from falling onto the carpet. "I'll miss you too," she told his shoulder, her face nestled there.

* * *

"I need an alibi," he demanded. Logan paced the floor like his feet were sticking to it, scuffing the soles of his sneakers loudly on the thin shag. The movement made a low, dragging sound that mingled with his worried breathing. He couldn't stop drawing attention to himself. Even if the room was empty, save for Veronica.

Veronica looked panicked. Her deer-in-headlight-eyes made a painful match with her pale skin. She jumped up as his pacing brought Logan face to face with her. Inches of space existed between them and Veronica could feel the hot, sticky dew of his breath--sweet from liquor--clinging to her skin. "You can't tell anyone!"

"They think I killed her." Logan's eyes widened in disbelief. Veronica appeared to be curling into a shell in front of him and he was going to end up fucked in the process. There were times when nothing redeemable came of Veronica's denial system.

"They can't prove anything," she offered. A flat, meek helplessness showed clearly on her face. Veronica felt caught, her lies finally catching up to her. She had never thought about outrunning them, now, they had crept right past her without notice.

"Without you I don't have an alibi, Veronica. We have to tell them..." he paused, a thought striking him squarely, "What about you?"

A rapid blush spread across her face, shame painting waves over the sickly pale. "My dad thinks I was studying in my room. I sneaked out."

"Veronica, please."

"--I can't," she hesitated.

"I'm going to go to jail, Veronica. This is kinda more important than your dad finding out you're not the fucking Virgin Mary," he hissed. Desperation was beginning to fog around the boy like a sea-harr. He was finding it more and more difficult to see a way out.

Veronica faltered, her whole demeanor broken down into abstract pieces that Logan could not understand. She was frantically awkward to read. "It's not that--"

"What?! I just... I don't _get_ you anymore."

"She died and we were..." Veronica let her explanation hang for a sickly moment. "She was dying and we were... we were... I just, I can't tell them that. I can't have that be the way it was." She choked back a sharp breath, trying to disguise the beginnings of a sob.

Logan reeled up, pulling his full height. "You can't _change_ it! Fuck, Veronica. It happened. It's done. You can't just re-write the past because it doesn't make you feel good. Grow the _fuck_ up!"

"You're really making me see it your way. Nice job, Logan. My best friend just _died_."

"So did my girlfriend!" he cried in response. Shocked by his own words, Logan took a step back redundantly.

"You should go."

* * *

_"Veronica, pick up. You've got to pick up. I know you hate me, I know, but I know who did it. I know who killed her. My dad... he was... they were--"_ A clicking sounded in Veronica's ear, something she would never know was the sound of plastic hitting concrete as Logan's cell phone bounced around. There was a solid, guttural cry and then a metal crushing drowned everything into the dial tone.

Veronica snapped the phone closed in her lap. Tears were quickly pooling in the swollen corners of her eyes. "Dad, we have to go back!" She hadn't checked the time of the voicemail.


End file.
